


This Is One Doodle That Can't Be Un-did, Homeskillet.

by snailhands



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Unplanned Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-24
Updated: 2016-05-07
Packaged: 2018-05-28 20:10:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6343504
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snailhands/pseuds/snailhands
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One Summerween night leads to trouble for you. Big trouble.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> DISCLAIMER: I am not, never have been and probably never will be pregnant. That said, two of my friends are expecting and another is being induced into labor with her second child tonight! So, I apologize in advance if anything is wrong/miscalculated.   
> Bonus points if you know what the title is from!

Today is not a good day. 

There are two deciding factors to this statement: One being the way you’re hunched over the toilet bowl, puking your guts out. The other is the throbbing in your temples that hasn’t stopped since 1AM.   
You wipe your mouth with the back of your hand before you flush and stand up again. Upright, the pain in your temples lessens a bit and you wash your hands quickly.   
You were leaving for work when the sudden nausea over took you and you had to detour from your route downstairs to puke in the en suite bathroom.   
Shaking it off, you snag a drink of water from the tap and brush your teeth again before checking the time on your cell phone. 

9:05AM. _Shit!_

You scramble out to your car and jump in, putting your foot down the second the engine starts up.

~*~*~*~*~

You’ve not even hung up your jacket before your boss is chastising you.   
“Ten minutes late!” Stanley grumbles, tramping through the gift shop of the Mystery Shack, suited and booted. 

Gritting your teeth, you sigh. “I know, I’m sorry.”

“Any particular reason?” He asks as you take your place behind the cashier desk.

Avoiding the question, you fire back; “Is Ford here?” 

“No.” Stan rolls his eyes, annoyed. He’s never fun first thing in the morning. “He left earlier to do some kinda nerd stuff. ‘Course you’d know that if you’da' been here on time.” 

You huff, wishing you could just crawl into bed with him and sleep for half the day. 

“We don’t have time for kissy stuff today, kid. We’ve got work to do.” Stan throws you an apron and a pair of gloves. “We gotta make a new attraction.” 

 

~*~*~*~*~

Come lunch time you’re out in the Shack’s yard, elbow deep in the stuffing of a mangy looking taxidermist interpretation of a brown wolf. It reeks of old moth balls and stale air and you’re trying your best not to breathe in the stench.   
Stan has been making snide comments about your run down appearance all morning; you know he’s only teasing and deep down he doesn’t really mean it, but for some reason his jokes have rubbed you up the wrong way.   
You feel a wave of nausea wash over you and you have to shuffle away from the taxidermy nightmare. Standing up, you shake off the gloves and take a second to compose yourself. 

“Everything alright, kid? You don’t look so-” 

Stan is interrupted by the sound of vomit hitting the floor. You cough and splutter, turning away from him in embarrassment. 

“Jeez!” Stanley exclaims, a mix between disgust and concern colouring his voice.   
You feel him lay a large hand on your back, rubbing between your shoulder blades in soothing circles. 

“J-Just give me a minute.” You croak, your voice scratchy. “I’ll be fine.”

Stan snorts, evidently not convinced by your words. “Let’s get you inside, sweetheart.”

You let him maneuver you back inside and into Ford’s bedroom. Too nauseous to argue, you kick off your shoes and crawl into the bed, curling up under the duvet.   
“Musta’ been a hell of a night, huh?” Stan chuckles, pushing your hair from your face. 

You frown, confused. “Wha’?”

“You’re hungover, that’s why you puked right?” 

Shaking your head, you curl further in on yourself. “No, this has been happening for a while now. Today was just really bad….”   
Stanley cocks his head, unsure of what you mean. 

“I think it’s a virus or somethin’? Maybe I have a food allergy I don’t know about?” You look up at him, a little tearful. 

There are a few moments of silence before Stanley speaks up again. 

“Are you pregnant?”

You bark out a laugh, surprised. “What?! No! Of course I’m not!”

Stanley raises a brow, his skepticism tangible.

“Look.” he says, and you can feel The Talk coming. “ I’m not an idiot, doll. I know you and Ford have a sex life. Hell, I’m impressed he got you in the first place, let alone that the two of you are at it almost every night.” Stan looks decidedly put out, but you swat at his arm anyway.

“Don’t be crude.”

He smirks and shrugs. “You’re not exactly subtle, ya know? This shack is old and I know the sounds it makes. ‘ _Oh fuck, harder_ ’ isn't one of ‘em.” 

You blush beet red and groan, pulling the covers over your head. “Shut up.”

Stan laughs and tugs them back down. “So? Any chance?”   
Thinking it over, you sigh and press your face into the pillow. “Yes.”   
Stanley nods, but waits for you to go on. 

“After the Summerween party, about four months ago. We were a little tipsy and everyone else was busy outside, so we snuck in and- well. We didn’t use anything.” Your voice fades to a hushed whisper towards the end, the reality hitting you.

“Look, we all screw up.” The older man smiles kindly. “You want me to go pick up some tests from the store?”   
You shake your head fervently. “No, thank you. I’ll go myself after work.”

“Just take the rest of the day off, yeah?”

You go to argue, but Stan holds a hand up.  
“I mean it. You’re no good to me all sickly and grouchy.” He chuckles, ruffling your hair. “Sleep for a while and go to the store later. Stanford won’t be home ‘til late anyway.” 

You nod and cuddle up to the pillow as Stanley leaves you alone with your thoughts. 

_How could you be this stupid?_


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ford is so cute

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Firstly, I'm super sorry for the delay on this chapter! I have bpd and it can make it difficult to do anything creative at times. Everything I wrote I hated and even now I'm not happy with this chapter. Please hang on, I'll be adding another one or two chapters later on!
> 
> This was written whilst in bed with a headache so it ain't great, but it's the best I got!

_Oh no…. Oh no no no no.  
This can’t be happening! _

You feel hot tears well up, blurring your vision. Gripped between your thumb and forefinger is a slender white pregnancy test; two small pink lines glaring up at you obnoxiously.   
Panicking, you turn over the other test you did; the result is the same. A soft knock at the door makes you jump and you stuff the tests into your bag.

“Everything okay in there, sweetheart?” Stan’s voice is muffled by the wood.

Composing yourself before you open up, you take a deep breath and pull the door open. 

“Well?” He asks, turning as soon as you appear. 

“Surprise!” You offer him a watery smile. “You were right.”  
And then the flood gates break open; Stan has his arms around you the moment you start to cry, great, silent sobs into the front of his shirt. He guides you to the couch and gently sits down beside you, soothing you by rubbing small circles into your back.

“Hey, shhh…. It’s alright.” He murmurs, waiting patiently for you to calm down. 

It takes you fifteen minutes to gather yourself properly. Stan stays silent, only passing you tissues or muttering comforts occassionally. Wiping your cheeks roughly with your sleeve, you heave a great sigh and turn so you can look up at Stanley. 

“I’ve ruined your shirt….” 

Stan laughs and shakes his head. “Nah, I was gonna throw this old thing out anyway.”  
You hiccup a small laugh and bump shoulders with him. 

“What am I gonna do, Stan?” You ask, feeling sick all over again. 

“That’s not my decision to make, kiddo. You’re an adult, you’re gonna have to talk this through with Ford.”   
You groan and scrub a hand over your face, exhausted. He's right, of course.   
Stan offers you a small smile and strokes your hair back from your forehead. “It'll be okay…. I'll leave you alone for a bit. Ford won't be long.” 

You nod and head back into Ford’ bedroom; you feel like you've just run a marathon, a nap would be nice. 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

“Hey there, sleeping beauty….” 

You stir from your slumber, eyes heavy, and look up to see Ford sitting on the edge of the bed.   
He's in a dark vest top and his boxer briefs, hair in disarray as though he's been running his fingers through it all day.   
You smile sleepily, pressing your face into his hand as he cups your cheek. Ford presses a kiss to your forehead. 

“I just got back, didn't mean to wake you.” He smiles apologetically and pulls his tank top off over his head. “Go back to bed.” 

Rubbing your eyes, you lean up on your elbows. “In a minute,” you mumble, still tired. “Can you pass me my phone please? It's in my bag.”   
Ford nods and crosses the room swiftly, picking your bag up from the floor and rummaging through it. You try to shake off the exhaustion that's clinging to you, but after the events of today your body is craving sleep. You're about to lie down again when Ford turns on the spot, holding a slim piece of plastic in one hand. 

“What's this?....” 

You simultaneously feel yourself blush and go pale. Ford is standing in his underwear and pajamas, holding your pregnancy test from earlier. He looks more confused than anything, the glow of the moonlight shining through the bedroom window illuminates his face and makes him look far older than he is. 

“Ford I-”   
“This is a pregnancy test.”  
“I know, if you'd just-”   
“You- are you _pregnant_?” 

You pause, but eventually nod a little. “I only found out today.”   
Ford turns the test over in his fingers as he climbs into bed beside you, his face still unreadable. He does a few quick calculations in his head.   
“That means…. Summerween, doesn't it?” He asks, finally looking at you and not the test.   
Again, you nod. 

“You must be, what, four months gone then?”

“I think so, yeah. I was gonna make a doctors appointment tomorrow morning…. Are you mad?”   
Ford looks bewildered. “Mad?! I'm _ecstatic_!” He brackets you in his arms beneath him and kisses you soundly.   
You laugh breathlessly against his mouth, overcome with joy.   
“I thought you'd be angry!” You mutter, your foreheads pressed against one another. “I was sick this morning and Stan was looking after me. He figured it out before I did.”   
Ford pulls back a little bit. “Wait, Stanley knows?” 

You smile sheepishly. “I threw up on his shoes, he worked it out for himself.”   
Stanford laughs and kisses you again. And again and again and again. 

The two of you don't _fuck_ that night. The sex is…. Different. Every touch is ten times as tender than before and Ford seems to be unable to go longer than five minutes without touching your stomach.   
When you're both sated, he holds you close in the afterglow; sweat cooling on your skin and you card your fingers through his hair.   
You fall asleep with Ford’s head on your shoulder and his hand on your stomach. 

_Everything is going to be okay._


	3. 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> smut and fluff!

_His hands are firm on your hips, his mouth hot against your neck, as he ruts forward again._  
_A tiny sigh of pleasure escapes you as he sinks his teeth into the flesh of your throat; you just know that's going to leave a mark._  
_The thought is **thrilling.**_  
_Ford has you on your back, one of your legs hitched up as high as you can manage comfortably as he fucks into your tight heat. The music from the party outside is so loud it conceals the noise the pair of you are making, but you're not sure you could care if the others did hear anyway._  
_He leans up to kiss you, his movements messy and uncoordinated as he keeps pace. The alcohol you've both consumed is enough to make your heads spin, but in a way it just heightens the entire encounter.  
_ _Neither of you are completely coherent, but you know if the other asked it of you you'd stop immediately._

_You tangle your hands in Ford’s thick hair, dragging your nails over his scalp and grinning as he groans._  
_“Y-you're a minx, y’know that?” He mumbles, pushing forward just enough to hit that sweet spot inside of you._  
_You cry out in answer to his question and he laughs, low and guttural._

_The sound of skin on skin contact and desperate huffs of air fill the room for a moment; the party is still raging on outside and everyone is preoccupied by it._  
_Your back arches as you come hard, seeing stars dance at the edges of your vision. You sob out Ford’s name like a prayer and feel him follow a split second afterwards. His voice breaks mid cry, but neither of you care._  
_The potent mix of alcohol and sex has you drifting off to sleep almost instantly. You only have time to register Ford cleaning you up before you're out cold to the world._

*********

The morning after Ford finds out about the unexpected blessing, you wake up in an empty bed. Bleary eyed and still half asleep, you sit up and grab the closest thing to you to wear.  
The clock on the wall reads 7:18 and you groan in annoyance. You've never been great with mornings.  
Swinging your legs over the bed, you pull on some loose fitting track pants that you usually wear come nighttime, before you pad through to the kitchen. 

It's empty in there too. 

You feel a wave of cold fear wash over you, settling in your stomach like a stone as the thought comes unbidden: he's gone. He left you alone to deal with this. He doesn't care. 

You shake your head sharply and sit at the kitchen table.  
“Stop being ridiculous.” You mutter to yourself. “He's probably out chasing fairies or something.”  
You’ve barely finished the thought when the sound of the front door swinging open makes you jump. You glance over your shoulder and grin when you spot Ford, his cheeks flushed with exertion and his arms full with brown paper grocery bags.  
“What are you doing?” You ask, confused.  
Ford doesn’t answer; instead, he piles the bags on the table and begins unpacking them. Lining up little bottles in a row, you peer at the labels.  
“Ante-natal vitamins?” You chuckle, looking up at him fondly. “I’ve not even seen the doctor yet.”  
Running a hand through his hair, Ford fixes you with a look.  
“I know what the human body needs! I’m a scientist, after all.”  
You snort and stand up, stopping Ford’s swift unpacking with a gentle kiss on the cheek. “A scientist, not a doctor. I appreciate the thought, though.”  
Stanford rolls his eyes and waves a hand dismissively. “I’m just as good as a doctor or a nurse.” He states confidently.  
“Whatever you say.” You laugh as you pat his upper arm. “Though I must admit you’d look good in a nurse’s uniform.”  
Ford turns red and wrinkles his nose. “Behave yourself.”  
You’re about to tell him how much he enjoys it when you do the exact opposite of that, but you’re halted by the sound of Mabel yawning.  
“Good morning.” You smile warmly at the young girl, her hair in disarray and her eyes half shut. “Sleep well?”  
She murmurs something affirmative and shuffles past to find her breakfast. 

“What’s with the mess, Grunkle Ford?” 

Stanford is silent for a beat, glancing sideways at you. You nod a little, giving him permission.  
“Well, um…. I had planned to tell you and Dipper together, but I suppose now is as a good a time as any. The thing is, I- That is to say we-”  
“I’m pregnant.”  
Both Ford and Mabel wheel around to look at you, wide eyed.  
“You were beating around the bush, Ford.” You huff, rolling your eyes.

Mabel emits a squeal that you’re certain only dogs three states over can hear and before you know it, she has her little hands pressed up against your t-shirt.  
“Oh my gosh!” She beams up at you, her eyes sparkling with excitement. “I have to get knitting, we’ve got so much to do!”  
Chuckling, you ruffle her hair. “Slow down, Mabel. We have our first doctor’s appointment this afternoon. If the doctor thinks everything is okay, then we’ll talk knitting, okay?”  
Mabel pouts a little, but grudgingly seems to accept it before her face breaks out into a grin again. “Dipper is gonna be so psyched.” And then she’s gone again, breakfast forgotten in her excitement. 

You lean into Ford’s side with a contented sigh. “I’m morbidly curious to know what Mabel plans on knitting for this baby….”  
He wraps his arm around your waist and presses a kiss into your hair. “For _our_ baby.”  
You can’t help the smile that splits your face. 

“Yeah…. Our baby.”


	4. 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Set 4-5 months after the last chapter!

Ford has a terrible habit of putting his foot in mouth at the most inopportune times. He doesn’t mean anything by it, of course, he just forgets that not everyone understands his intentions.  
That’s how he finds himself in his current situation; metaphorical foot between his teeth and pushing it deeper with every word.  
It started as an innocent comment, as far as Ford can tell. The two of you are sitting on the stoop’s couch, watching Mabel and her friends crafting in the short grass of the yard. Ford’s arm is tucked around your waist, his hand cradling your swollen stomach.  
“Are you sure you’re not carrying twins in there?” He chuckles, rubbing his thumb soothingly across the fabric of your shirt. “It does run in our family, after all….”

You scowl, shifting in your seat to look at him. “Excuse me?”  
Oblivious, Ford smiles. “You’re getting huge now, maybe the midwife missed an extra little one in there.” He taps your belly gently.  
For a moment, a slew of emotions rush through your body: Anger, upset, offence.  
You huff, unable to respond in a way that could be considered appropriate in front of a group of 13 year olds and haul yourself to your feet.  
“I’m going for nap.” You murmur, rubbing your back.  
“Alright, darling.” Comes Ford’s absent-minded reply as you head back inside.

 ****

The next mistake Ford makes, isn’t really his fault at all.  
You’re admiring a selection of pretty flowers outside a quaint little shop in town; Ford is bickering with Stanley a little way away and the kids are wandering happily around together. You study the lilies and orchids, only half paying attention to them, when a gaggle of older women brush past you.  
They’re well dressed, coiffed to within an inch of their lives and their eyes fixed on your stomach as they pass.  
“Oh my….” Says a redhead, her ski slope nose pointing up in the air. “These young girls and their irresponsible proclivities.”  
The women titter, well aware their comments can be heard.  
“I bet she doesn’t even know who the father is!” A blonde one laughs haughtily, her gaze flicking up and down your body. 

You feel yourself flush, embarrassed and angry, but unable to think of a witty retort.  
“Shame on these single mothers!” Huffs a short lady, the pearls around her neck catching the sunlight. “They ought to keep their legs shut and their books open instead!”  
The group of them laugh loudly, a spiteful satisfaction in their eyes as they move on. 

You feel hot tears well up, a thick lump sticking in your throat.  
_Idiot!_ Your mind snaps, _they’re right!_  
You’re startled out of your thoughts by a hand on his lower back. 

“Are you alright?” Ford smiles at you, having missed the entire exchange by arguing with his brother.  
The anger you felt at the clique of women returns full force and you whirl on the older man, face still beet red.  
“Where were you?!”  
“I-I was talking to Stanley!” He stammers, recoiling a little at your reaction. “What’s hap-”  
_“Save it!”_ You hiss, stomping back towards the car. 

Ford rubs the back of his head in confusion, unable to analyze your erratic behaviour. 

“What did I say?”

**** 

It’s your idea to go for an early evening stroll.  
Mabel and Dipper readily agree, but Ford is a little hesitant. 

“Are you sure you’re up for it?” He asks you, his concern blatant.  
You smile warmly and nod, letting Mabel take your hand as you begin to walk. The older man concedes easily enough, confident in your ability to determine how you feel. 

The four of you are traipsing happily in the low sunlight, enjoying the views of the forest, when Mabel exclaims something about fairies. She’s off before any of you can blink; bounding through the greenery and away from the trail as she giggles.  
Dipper yells after her but you raise a hand. “Relax, I’ll get her. She won’t go far.”  
Ford goes to argue, but you’re moving before he can stop you, striding through the knee high grass after the young girl.

It doesn’t take long to find Mabel. She’s crouching beside a small pond, chatting merrily to a frog. You smother a laugh and move to stand beside her.  
“What did your Grunkle tell you about running off, young lady?”  
Mabel looks up, expression suitably chastised. “I thought I saw a fairy….”  
You smile fondly and shake your head, offering a hand as she gets up. “Come on, I’m sure Ford knows where to-” 

You’re cut off by a low growl from just across the pond. Both you and Mabel’s heads snap up at the noise, the hairs on the back of your neck rising.  
“Get behind me.” You mutter, shielding Mabel with an outstretched arm. She does as she’s told, slowly ducking behind you as the creature across from you prowls forward. 

It’s the size of a draft horse and just as broad. From its snout to its tail, the creature has a thick pelt of dirty grey fur, it’s lower body is like that of a sphynx cat; bald, wrinkled and pink. Most alarming, however, is its gaping maw of sharp teeth and its curved talons. It growls again, slinking forward low and fast. 

Keeping your voice low, you address Mabel firmly. “I want you to back away slowly and head back to Ford, okay?”  
“But what about you?” She whispers, clutching the back of your jeans.  
_“Just do it, Mabel.”_ You hiss, startling her into motion.  
She’s light enough not to make much noise as she retreats into the woods again and you don’t make a move to follow. 

There’s a tense moment of silence; it could’ve been 30 seconds or it could’ve been 30 minutes, but both you and the creature hold each other’s gaze steadfastly.  
Suddenly, you feel your stomach cramp up and your knees buckle beneath you. You cry out in pain and the creature lunges forward, seizing its opportunity to attack. Looking up, you only have a few seconds to fully register the animal before there’s a guttural snarl and a bright blue flash.  
You force yourself to open your eyes and you’re shocked to see Ford standing over you; A futuristic gun extended in one hand, the other reaching back towards you. The beast turns tail with a yelp and Ford is on his knees in front of you immediately.

“Are you okay?!” He asks, voice strained with worry. “Did it hurt you?!”  
“No, you saved me before it could do anyth- _Ah!_ ” You’re cut off by a strange sensation in your belly. Peering downwards at your lap, you’re confused to see a dark stain spreading through your jeans rapidly.  
“Oh shit, what is that?” You groan, touching the fabric. Your fingertips come back wet, but colourless. 

Your waters have broken.

Ford has you scooped up in his arms in a matter of seconds, sprinting through the woods as fast as he can manage. He hollers for the twins, rapidly explaining the situation as he runs with them back towards the shack.  
You have your eyes squeezed shut against the pain as the minutes blur together; there are voices shouting and hands on you and before you know it, you’re laying out in the back seat of Stanley’s car. 

Over the pounding of blood in your ears, you hear Stan snap at Ford: “If she ruins the upholstery in here, you’re paying for it, Sixer!”


End file.
